..Yanking herself free of the grasps of the two cops, Amy whirled around and took a wild kick (missing completely) at the owner of that intrusive hand... which turned out to be, sitting on a police bench, an older, homeless guy with a semi-toothy grin and leering eyes. “Keep your hands to yourself, you fucking, filthy homeless perv !”. Other police station regulars (call girls, drunks, gangsta's) who had been watching the exchange, burst out into laughter, getting a scornful look from. At the top of the balcony mom told me this was a room known as the “crying room.” I asked her why and she pointed out that there was a Plexiglas window in front of our view and noted the balcony was where the parishioners took their crying children so other members of the congregation would not be disturbed. I looked around noticing there were speakers on the walls so we could hear the proceedings down below and reveled at the fact we could scream and nobody could hear us through the thick. He made me stand up in front of him. He suddenly grabbed the toy and roughly tugged and pushed it into me, ordering me to bend over the bench.He smacked my buttocks hard and said he was going to have to push the toy deeper, since my pussy was loose and it would fall down. So he pushed hard and I felt like three fingers pushing together into my womb…He pulled his fingers out and pushed his face onto my pussy lips.The man ate me for a few minutes and then smacked my butt.He was jacking off; so he. It gave him plenty of options if he had to run. It didn’t look like I had much choice, so I planned to head out there tomorrow.I spent the night with the bedbugs in the local hotel, but I had a decent breakfast to make up for it. At least, the coffee was good. I left town with little real hope for success in finding Harrison, but this was my only lead, so I had to follow it. The McGruder house was easy to spot. It sat atop a low hill and had a good view of the surrounding countryside. Dammit,.